- ‘ Cases of rape rise to 84% in Nigeria’
- Dana air crash update: 23 aircrash victims’ families yet to receive compensation
- Mimiko inaugurates new Mother & Child hospital today
- N4.56b pension scam: Female accused hospitalised,trial stalled
- Construction workers hail FG’s decision on Lagos-Ibadan expressway
- Senate adjourns plenary for 1 week, dissolves to Appropriation committee.
- Blackout looms as Egbin power plant breaks down
- FMBN, NEXIM, BOA, IB lose N47bn in 6 months - CBN
- FirstBank wins Nigerian Bank of the Year award
- PDP tackles ACN over Tukur’s comments
- Electricity workers threaten strike over Wamakko
- ‘NDIC prosecuted 55 directors, staff of micro finance banks in 2011’
- Judgment in Oni’s appeal stalled, re-fixed for Jan 8
- Slain banker: Deceased had only 3 wounds -Accused’s father
- Appointments: S/West not marginalised —FCC
Do you believe in miracles?
The following are true stories – two of several personal experiences I would like share with you today.
About 33 years ago, I set out on a journey to Bacita in Kwara State to give a helping hand to a busy missionary hospital that had suddenly lost its doctor. There were very ill patients, some in need of urgent surgery. Having failed to keep my promise to help find a replacement, I had no choice but to offer myself for two weeks.
I left Ibadan about 7 o’clock in the morning and just before leaving the city limits, a young lady beckoned for a ride to Oyo town – the first of the many towns I had to pass through on my way to Bacita. I was happy for the company, albeit for a short distance. My companion commended me for driving so carefully and as she opened the door to get out of the car in Oyo, prayed for my safety.
No sooner she got off, a fine drizzle began; the road became wet and slippery. I reduced my speed for better road holding. Then suddenly, at a sharp bend, I saw the car in front of mine skidding off the road into the bush. I pulled off the road to assist the sole occupant of the car. As I was about to open the door, a voice barked in my ears three times in quick succession, “Don’t get out.” Finding it rather strange, I ignored the voice and opened the door partially. Then in a sharper tone with some urgency, the voice commanded, “Look at your mirror.” I obeyed and froze in my seat as I saw a pick-up van making straight for my car. I hastily shut the half opened door in time before the inevitable impact.
The second story was more recent. It was an unusually quiet day of December. I sat in the reception of my office, watching TV with my staff. Clutching her one year old baby in her arms, a young, unkempt woman with a forlorn look on her face, was led in by her equally weary, dishevelled husband. From the way she followed passively without any hesitation, I knew she must have been blind for a couple of months. Her husband, looking lost, sat her down in one of the chairs in the hall and proceeded to the receptionist for the registration process.
Shortly after, it was the woman's turn to see me. She narrated how she had gone blind about two months earlier and all the places they had visited in search of a cure. They ended up in a church and after three weeks of prayers, the pastor advised that they visit an eye clinic. She was totally blind in both eyes. The optic nerves at the back of her eyes were severely damaged.
She needed some expensive radiological tests but how would she find the money? I was pleasantly surprised when there was no objection or complaint about the costs. She returned the day after with the test results. They were all negative, leaving me with just my clinical findings.
My eyes went to the husband, then my patient and her baby. Their clothes were dirty. The baby wasn't malnourished yet but was clearly on the way to it. Her husband was tired. The strain of looking after his son, a blind wife and at the same time eking out a living was telling on him. Except help came from somewhere, they could all be dead in no time. Where would help come from?
I was jolted from my negative thoughts when she asked in a mellow and appealing voice, “Doctor, please help me so I can help my son and my husband.” How would I break the news to her; that medically, the case was hopeless; that such extensive and severe damage to the optic nerves, were, as far as I knew, irreversible. “What would you have done if she had come much earlier?” an inner voice asked me. I quickly scribbled some prescriptions in her file and called the nurse to ensure the medicines were dispensed even if she had no money.
About two weeks later, the young woman could see clearly. The trio – the woman, her husband and the baby were neat, well fed and alive. What if the woman had not recovered her sight? The baby would have died from lack of care; the husband would have abandoned her at least for short periods while he tried to earn a wage to keep body and soul together.
Do you believe in miracles?Share